


fucking with my head

by orphan_account



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Gore, Intrusive Thoughts, Kinda, M/M, Masturbation, Murder Kink, Violent Thoughts, it's more like just imagery but whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27048724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He doesn't want to hurt him.
Relationships: Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Kudos: 20





	fucking with my head

**Author's Note:**

> idk wtf this is man i'm just thirsty and have accepted the fact i'm going to hell  
> this is really fucked up ngl  
> also i have never written a single thing in my life so this is terrible sorry lol

He doesn't want to hurt him. And he never would.

That doesn't stop Quentin from thinking about how it'd feel to wrap his hands around Peter's slender neck, press at his windpipe until his face turns blue and his eyes go bloodshot. Keep going even as he scrambles and tries to claw away like a petrified animal trying to escape a predator. Choppy, short, choked off cries of terror. Feel his heart run fast then slow as the life trickles out of him.

He's so fucked up. Even so, that doesn't stop him from reaching down and palming his erection tenting his pants as his mind runs wild with the imagery.

He imagines stabbing him. The in-and-out motion of the knife puncturing through his flesh too reminiscent of fucking. How he could feel that bit of resistance of his flesh give way to the blade, warm crimson liquid bubbling out of the wound at an alarming rate over Peter's beautifully sculpted body, blood cascading freely over the expanse of perfect creamy skin. Ragged whimpers of agony as he begs him to not, to spare him. Maybe he would, only to mark him up, bruise and beat him, just to see him broken.

Quentin reaches into his boxers to grab himself, panting as he squeezes his fingers around the base of his shaft to calm himself down. It feels like lava has pooled in his lower stomach, hot and heavy, every little sensation feels like electricity. His heart was beating so violently he felt his head throb with it. His hand was stroking up and down his cock frantically, even as his wrist screams for a break, head leaking precum like crazy. His thighs shake with the effort and he struggles to remember to breathe, huffing through his nose. He bucks his hips up, forcing his hard sex faster and harder through his grip, rolling his hips in a frenzy. His balls begin to pull tight and heavy, and for a long moment it feels like he's suspended in air, stomach turning and twisting in a mix of anticipation, relief, and shame. Then he's coming, finally and all too soon, hot liquid spraying over his hand and lap, making a huge fucking mess.

Slumping back as he comes down from his high, it's like all the energy has been simultaneously drained out of him and like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders.  
He doesn't know how long that placidity will last, how long until the next time he has to kill the urge, but for now, it'll work.


End file.
